


Father Knows Best

by Hekate1308



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:53:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: The peace of their evening – or at least his evening – was shattered by three words casually thrown into the room, as if they meant nothing.“Father Brown knows.”
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Father Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> I have been rewatching Father Brown, and finally decided to write a piece of fanfiction. Enjoy!

**Now**

The peace of their evening – or at least his evening – was shattered by three words casually thrown into the room, as if they meant nothing.

“Father Brown knows.”

A moment ago, he’d been reading up on the newest forensic developments while Sid was listening to the radio; if anything, he’d grown too used to their domestic comfort, their cosy place away from prying eyes, their happiness in being with each other, so long searched for and finally, finally achieved just as he’d no longer believed it to be possible. He’d grown so used to it, in fact, that hearing those three words, he didn’t immediately understand, as he undoubtedly would have… before. Before he’d been sent to Kembleford, before that so very lovable rogue had entered his life, before –

He let his book sink and swallowed. “What?”

Sid had somehow managed to get lost in his music again. “What?”

“You said Father Brown knows”.

“Oh yeah.” He shrugged. “About us.”

 _About_ _us_. _Father Brown knows. About us._ And Sid – what did he expect of him? To shrug as well? Move on? “You’re telling me _a catholic priest_ knows that we’re –“

“Wait, Tom, wait a second.”

As always, Sid had immediately guessed he was well on his way on talking himself into a frenzy and moved close to him, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Relax. This is Father Brown we’re talking about.”

Exactly. The same Father Brown he’d looked down on when he first arrived, the one he’d considered nothing but an amateur with a talent of getting himself into trouble, the one he had arrested once –

“He does quite like you, you know.”

He highly doubted that.

“Oh, stop it. He does. And he and I – you know we go way back – we’ve known each other for over fifteen years, now. He’s been aware of – well, what I like – _who_ I like – for almost as long.”

“He has?” he couldn’t imagine how that had ever come up in conversation; his lover certainly wasn’t the type to go to confession…

“Good God, Tom, he served in both wars, and he’s been a priest for decades. He knows people. And he’s never cared about any of that stuff, as long as no one gets hurt.” His eyes softened as his fingers trailed down his arm to grasp his hand. “And you wouldn’t call us unhappy, would you?”

No; no one could do that; and wasn’t that the most ironic thing of all. How he’d first abhorred Sid Carter, this good-for-nothing fellow nothing ever seemed to stick on, no matter how hard he tried, partly because of sheer luck and partly because of the (at that time, unexplainable to Tom) fondness the inhabitants of Kembleford had for him.

And then he himself had been accused of murder, and they had all come together to help him, and things had changed.

He’d finally admitted to himself that he was attracted to Carter, for one thing. Of course, back then, it was never supposed to be more than that; a passing glance, a dream already half-forgotten as he woke up in his lonely bed, maybe an ever-so-slight flirtation that no one would notice –

But Sid had noticed, because Sid had also been drawn to him for some bloody reason, and then it had become more, and now here they were.

_And Father Brown knew._

“How do you know?” he asked, feeling much calmer than he would have thought himself capable of, just a few short minutes ago.

Sid was rubbing circles unto the back of his hand with his thumb. “He told me.”

**That afternoon**

His timing was, even if he said so himself, impeccable. There were some things that Mrs. McCarthy, good soul that she was, would never truly understand or at least feel like she could tolerate; Lady Felicia was another matter entirely, of course – it was she who had all but confirmed his suspicions last week; but still – he and Sid were close, so close that he had always looked upon the young man as the son he’d never had, and he wanted him to know that there was nothing to fear.

At least from him. Yes, there were tongues that would wag, and people who would only have been too glad to see both Sid’s and the Inspector’s backs; but with Lady Felicia’s and (he said a quick prayer for forgiveness for his pride) his own considerably standing in the community, everything should work out.

“Hello, Father. You said something about the wiring?”

A small lie, but a necessary one, he told himself. “Lots of time for that. Sit down, my boy; Mrs. McCarthy has been so kind to bake some of her famous strawberry scones. She’s had to go see Mrs. O’Boyle; her gout’s been getting worse, poor lady…”

If he guessed that this wasn’t about the wiring at all, he didn’t let it show, but then, he often had tea with them anyway, ever since he’d arrived at Kembleford, barely a man with no idea what to do with his life. Father Brown was grateful that he had stayed; he’d fit right into their little makeshift family.

As would undoubtedly – once they had talked – after all it would only be natural –

After he’d served them both tea, he sat down and cleared his throat. “It’s come to my attention that you and the good inspector have been rather… at odds lately. More so than ever before, I hear.”

A blink, then Sid looked away – yes, he’d made the lad nervous. It was regrettable but unavoidable; they needed to talk about this; and he really hoped Sid trusted him enough to hear him out.

“He’s been – annoying me, that’s all” he managed to say, and Father Brown wondered if he was aware of the fondness in his voice. Probably not, since he was supposed to convince him they couldn’t stand one another, like they had at the beginning.

“Oh? How come? You’ve been rather law-abiding in the last few months…” Apart from the obvious, but this was what this was all about, after all, and he wouldn’t ruin their talk by blurting it out too soon.

“I – he’s been a bit harder on me. Probably wants to show off, you see. He might – he might want to go back to London, eventually. Scotland Yard, something like that.”

And now there was pain in his eyes at the very thought of the inspector leaving and Father Brown’s last doubts whether or not this was something serious vanished. No, this wasn’t like Sid’s usual flings – both with women and men – that he’d always ignored as long as no one gut hurt, and to the best of his knowledge, no one ever had.

This was something else, something that meant something to him. He only hoped the good inspector felt the same – but then, eh couldn’t quite imagine a man like him risking it all for a short affair with a petty criminal (while he personally wouldn’t have called Sid such, there were those who would).

“I see.” He let the pause continue, knowing from countless confessions that silence often prompted people to start speaking.

He was right. “I mean, there’ve been a few burglaries – not my work for once, but you know how To– Sullivan is – and so he decided to – “

But father Brown was somewhat taken aback by the fact that he’d just almost used the inspector’s first name, and his realization that until now, he hadn’t known what it was. That’s what happened when one didn’t baptise someone oneself, he supposed; and ta the same time, it felt almost strange that the correct, hard-working inspector actually _had_ a first name.

“So that’s all there is to it?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know what else it could be” Sid shrugged with feigned indifference and, apparently noticing that it was highly unusual for him not to have done so, took a strawberry cone, biting into it without the relish he normally showed them.

He was nervous, then. Probably confused. Starting to suspect…

“I don’t think so” he said firmly but gently. He didn’t want him to believe even for a moment he had something to fear from him. “As a matter of fact, Lady Felicia hinted there might be quite another reason you two have been at each other’s throats… in public, at least.”

He emphasized the word _public_ , letting him know that he was very aware that it was only half of the story, if that.

Thankfully, Sid had found out long ago that he couldn’t lie to him, or rather, that he could read him like a book when he chose; his shoulders slumped and he took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure whether she’d seen us… we were just… standing by the car… it wasn’t… we were fooling around, just a little, didn’t think she’d end her visit so soon…”

“You know Lady Felicia. She knows when to keep silent.” After a moment he added, “And so do I.”

“I – I know, Father”. He bit his lip. “But – I mean – there are some things…”

Yes there were. The old habits, the embarrassment of confiding certain things to a man of the cloth, making men shut up when he entered the pub or women giggle when they’d just been talking about their husbands. The belief that somehow, once ordained, one forgot all about this part of the human experience. It didn’t make sense, but wasn’t that often the case?

Like Sid and the inspector. Even if he’d known about the later, he wouldn’t have imagined that they’d end up together. Too different, too much bad blood between them. And yet here they were.

“Just remember that God loves you just as you are, Sidney, and so do we.”

He nodded.

“And” he smiled, “The next time you want to come over for tea or a meal, say at the weekend… Let’s say Sunday dinner. Why not bring the good inspector with you? I am rather sure he’s not had a homecooked meal in a while – or at least not one as good as Mrs. McCarthy can conjure up.”

That seemed to take him aback, but eventually he returned his smile with a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll see if he’s free.”

“You do that” he said, feeling satisfied and treating himself to another scone to celebrate.

**Now**

“He said _what_?”

“He invited you to Sunday dinner, and it’s going to be excellent, I assure you. Mrs. M is an amazing cook.”

“I – but –“

Sunday dinner. Good God, this was something he thought he’d never have to deal with, once he realised what he was, who he wanted. This was supposed to happen when you got a girl – meeting her family, surviving awkward meals with them, trying to impress her father.

But they already knew him, didn’t they? And Lady Felicia and Father Brown were both aware he and Sid were together, and they didn’t mind.

That was another thing he’d never seen coming. He’d always known, always felt sure that, wherever he went, people would hate him for what he was – if they found out; it was one of the reasons he’d sworn to himself early in life that he wouldn’t allow himself to get entangled with anyone.

Only he’d already rather spectacularly failed at that, hadn’t he, he thought glancing at their joined hands.

“I just… don’t want to be in the way…”

Sid rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t be. Properly got invited by Father Brown and everything. The guest of honour, so to speak.”

And as Sid leaned down to properly kiss him, a suspicion that this – this easy acquiesce, this simple offer of a place at dinner-time – might mean even more meddling priests when it came to his future cases darted through Tom’s mind; but somehow, as he felt his lover smile against his lips and he reached up to run his fingers through his hair, he couldn’t bring himself to mind in the slightest.


End file.
